Post by Amanita Vernia on May 17, 2005 9:39:56 GMT -5
The man is given a room, but the price is far from free
Time; it had all slipped away again into a monotonous run-on of days and nights he never knew, merely broken by the what he was sure must be the infrequent visitations by the Guards to feed him. Though the Guard still came by almost regularly, more-so than the others at-least, to check his wrists and make certain he got the bare minimum. It left those gaps between like endless cracks across the earth, vast and incomprehensive. So...to wake up from a half-delirium, to find himself in a tub...would be strange. To find a boy in it with him, was stranger still...But the water, cold though it may have been, felt soothing to roughed skin and chaffed wrists. The scissors, likely some sort of import from Ar's best, he didn't flinch from. And the razor, almost hurt it'd ben so long. The soap, animal-fat from the feel of it, did it's intended chore; the grime was gone, leaving him pale from..the time in the room. His teeth were clean, a thankful thing indeed. And, with some familiarity, he put on a set of robes, of Schendian make of course, if moderate and low-classed with the bare minimum in fit. With the slippers left behind, and that final tucking of the wrapping sash, did the boy start to lead him. And with an eye at the mass of grimacing guards past the doors opened by the Boy, it was something he'd either dread worse than his return to those chains, or something unbelievably generous. Flinching somewhat, he let it be, rubbing back the considerably-too-short hair...Simply folding his hands behind himself, to move in the boys wake, grim-faced and careful, to be left at a door with these instructions; "Don't step around the screen." Curious, that...But on stepping through, it became fairly obvious forthwith; as in formal Ar, occasionally, a captor's riches may not be seen. And the thick wooden screen before him made it hard to attempt...Shutting the door behind himself, he waited.
A conversation that had taken place two days prior decided his fate, at least in the short term, a meeting of three in which the captive had not been invited. Arculeius, Thaddaus and Amanita met in the same room the prisoner had been led. "There is no reason to keep him alive, the men of the house want blood, his." Came the young thief's argument, but then again he'd have his own brother slain if served him in some way. Arculeius was the quite one of the group, though of all them he'd spent the most time studying the man. He allowed the merchant to say her peace before he would remark. "Men always want bloodshed, premature, he still might be able to tell us something.... and there is something in my gut that tells me not to act in hast." She looked from one man to the other ending on Arculeius. "Do you not feel it, something about him... he hides something." Amanita had her hand at her stomach as she spoke, the lack of veils revealed her brow's weariness as they pinched. They both looked to the tie breaker, perhaps even the leader in these affairs. "He responds better to you, Lady, than any of the beatings the guards have given him, but he had been in our custody for two hand and still we know nothing. He is yours one last time, if he makes no progress, then the men will have their blood." That being the verdict, Arculeius also ordered that the man be cleaned for no other reason than he simply disliked the smell of him. Arculeius was in the room when the prisoner entered, but he didn't move forward, he remained flush with the wall and behind a curtain, there if and when needed. The merchant arrived a few ehn after the cleanly dressed man and though she was never one to avert her eyes, she didn't look at him directly nor close enough to find what had been hiding under all that grime. She wasted no time and pointed towards a couch allowing him to take a seat this time, rather than be hung from shackles, as she too sat. "I have been told you speak more now, but still no names... I was hoping if you dressed the part, perhaps you could be more civil and at least share you name?"
Blinking somewhat, he wondered at the quandary that presented; to do as was offered, and take a seat with the woman? Or to stay behind the screen from view, as he was told...Clearing his throat, well-quenched from that bath, he spoke carefully in that deep, soft timbre, with a little more ease than before. "Civility, Lady, is a matter of.... I speak now, but only little. I still have no name to offer. But, yours I know not, either," he pointed out, if politely, as he folded down with a care to his knees behind that screen, sitting back on his heels with a press of his palms to his thighs, elbows turned-out. A formal sit, if also one that allowed him his feet at the ready. "Where am I?"
It was in her best interest the boy, given orders by the guards, had told him to stay behind the screen. Amanita, however, didn't always act according to those practices. For a woman betrayed by so many men she shouldn't have trusted any, especially one that had slain two of her guards and might of killed her if it hadn't been for his capture. Still, she offered him to come closer and he declined, sitting behind the screen. "You offer me nothing, why should I give anything to you?" Her retort came to his request of her name, but she did give him at least one answer. "You are in Schendi... and the house is that of Silenti." Which would lead one to believe she was Lady Silenti, but Amanita had dropped her father's name when she was removed from his house at sixteen. "Perhaps now that you've been told where, you can at least tell me what brought you here?"
Flinching at the same question he'd been put to for more than awhile now, he took a slow breath as he shut his eyes, thinking. Silenti, Schendi...Those brought pangs of memory, but nothing so distant as more than what brought on the urge. Clearing his throat roughly, he spoke. "I..recall the name, Silenti. It was spoken in the snow-lands before I came, I think. It is...difficult, to put an urge to word. One rise, I just faced south. And moved." Dropping his head somewhat with a hard knit to his brow, he spoke clearer, firmer. "I have no other way to say such. I came here, that is all."
Though the screen was as much for her own protection, it also guarded him, kept her from seeing the glimmers of memory flicker or burn out. It kept her from seeing many things of him. She did listen to him speak and as he got better with his words she felt a similar flickering of memory, but she had now way of knowing why. Her own voice was smooth and well pronounced as she continued the cross-examination. "So you cannot remember how, exactly, but if you know the name, then you should also have some idea as to why you came here." She shifted enough that he'd hear the sound of her robes moving with the adjustment, but she remained seated where she was. "I know that you've been asked this time and time... why you attacked our house, but perhaps if I assure you this will be the last time it is asked of you, maybe you will remember?" It was not only an idle reminder, but a threat, letting him know they were just as tired of asking it as he was hearing it, but an answer was needed to save his life.
An answer, at least, he could now give with some more clarity at the very least. Twisting a grimace at the unsaid intent that lie behind that question, fingers tightened into hard fists atop his thighs. Perhaps if he'd taken her offer of a seat, things would be different...But, rocking back off his toes, he stood carefully, legs still weak from the lack of the necessities, to step to the edge of the screen, wrapping his hand 'round the edge for support as he stepped out from behind, casting a tight frown as his eyes swung carefully onto the woman. "I...did not attack. Or you would have suffered...worse losses. Yourself, among them. I...had to get inside this...place. Nothing more, woman."
Her face had darkened some over the years -- the trip into the Tahari, her immodest refusal to veil herself, sitting in garden at midday -- but she paled at the sight of him. His move forward had brought Arculeius into the light, but Amanita just stared at the ghost before her. How had she not seen him before? He was changed more than she, but there were unmistakable characteristics that an observant woman, such as she, should of spotted. His hair dark like her own, longer now, and those eyes of his... they seemed almost empty now. She was silent, staring at him, in a rare instance where she showed her own fear. The Charmer, who had will enough to face an ost without flinching, to curl up beside a man and inject him, to still be free after all she had seen and done -- showed fear in the face of this man, no longer a stranger. Arculeius appeared to be ready if the man decided to move any further, his words take as a possible threat, one the dark skinned man who'd seen him fight knew him likely capable of. Once the merchant composed herself enough to speak she simply said, "I see." Rising slowly she started to move closer to the man despite her guards worry made clear in a faint groan of exhaled breath. Still, she moved to look closer. It was the same way she approached an ost, with the shock and expression now removed from her face. "And now that you're inside... who will suffer losses.... you or me?"
Time; it had all slipped away again into a monotonous run-on of days and nights he never knew, merely broken by the what he was sure must be the infrequent visitations by the Guards to feed him. Though the Guard still came by almost regularly, more-so than the others at-least, to check his wrists and make certain he got the bare minimum. It left those gaps between like endless cracks across the earth, vast and incomprehensive. So...to wake up from a half-delirium, to find himself in a tub...would be strange. To find a boy in it with him, was stranger still...But the water, cold though it may have been, felt soothing to roughed skin and chaffed wrists. The scissors, likely some sort of import from Ar's best, he didn't flinch from. And the razor, almost hurt it'd ben so long. The soap, animal-fat from the feel of it, did it's intended chore; the grime was gone, leaving him pale from..the time in the room. His teeth were clean, a thankful thing indeed. And, with some familiarity, he put on a set of robes, of Schendian make of course, if moderate and low-classed with the bare minimum in fit. With the slippers left behind, and that final tucking of the wrapping sash, did the boy start to lead him. And with an eye at the mass of grimacing guards past the doors opened by the Boy, it was something he'd either dread worse than his return to those chains, or something unbelievably generous. Flinching somewhat, he let it be, rubbing back the considerably-too-short hair...Simply folding his hands behind himself, to move in the boys wake, grim-faced and careful, to be left at a door with these instructions; "Don't step around the screen." Curious, that...But on stepping through, it became fairly obvious forthwith; as in formal Ar, occasionally, a captor's riches may not be seen. And the thick wooden screen before him made it hard to attempt...Shutting the door behind himself, he waited.
A conversation that had taken place two days prior decided his fate, at least in the short term, a meeting of three in which the captive had not been invited. Arculeius, Thaddaus and Amanita met in the same room the prisoner had been led. "There is no reason to keep him alive, the men of the house want blood, his." Came the young thief's argument, but then again he'd have his own brother slain if served him in some way. Arculeius was the quite one of the group, though of all them he'd spent the most time studying the man. He allowed the merchant to say her peace before he would remark. "Men always want bloodshed, premature, he still might be able to tell us something.... and there is something in my gut that tells me not to act in hast." She looked from one man to the other ending on Arculeius. "Do you not feel it, something about him... he hides something." Amanita had her hand at her stomach as she spoke, the lack of veils revealed her brow's weariness as they pinched. They both looked to the tie breaker, perhaps even the leader in these affairs. "He responds better to you, Lady, than any of the beatings the guards have given him, but he had been in our custody for two hand and still we know nothing. He is yours one last time, if he makes no progress, then the men will have their blood." That being the verdict, Arculeius also ordered that the man be cleaned for no other reason than he simply disliked the smell of him. Arculeius was in the room when the prisoner entered, but he didn't move forward, he remained flush with the wall and behind a curtain, there if and when needed. The merchant arrived a few ehn after the cleanly dressed man and though she was never one to avert her eyes, she didn't look at him directly nor close enough to find what had been hiding under all that grime. She wasted no time and pointed towards a couch allowing him to take a seat this time, rather than be hung from shackles, as she too sat. "I have been told you speak more now, but still no names... I was hoping if you dressed the part, perhaps you could be more civil and at least share you name?"
Blinking somewhat, he wondered at the quandary that presented; to do as was offered, and take a seat with the woman? Or to stay behind the screen from view, as he was told...Clearing his throat, well-quenched from that bath, he spoke carefully in that deep, soft timbre, with a little more ease than before. "Civility, Lady, is a matter of.... I speak now, but only little. I still have no name to offer. But, yours I know not, either," he pointed out, if politely, as he folded down with a care to his knees behind that screen, sitting back on his heels with a press of his palms to his thighs, elbows turned-out. A formal sit, if also one that allowed him his feet at the ready. "Where am I?"
It was in her best interest the boy, given orders by the guards, had told him to stay behind the screen. Amanita, however, didn't always act according to those practices. For a woman betrayed by so many men she shouldn't have trusted any, especially one that had slain two of her guards and might of killed her if it hadn't been for his capture. Still, she offered him to come closer and he declined, sitting behind the screen. "You offer me nothing, why should I give anything to you?" Her retort came to his request of her name, but she did give him at least one answer. "You are in Schendi... and the house is that of Silenti." Which would lead one to believe she was Lady Silenti, but Amanita had dropped her father's name when she was removed from his house at sixteen. "Perhaps now that you've been told where, you can at least tell me what brought you here?"
Flinching at the same question he'd been put to for more than awhile now, he took a slow breath as he shut his eyes, thinking. Silenti, Schendi...Those brought pangs of memory, but nothing so distant as more than what brought on the urge. Clearing his throat roughly, he spoke. "I..recall the name, Silenti. It was spoken in the snow-lands before I came, I think. It is...difficult, to put an urge to word. One rise, I just faced south. And moved." Dropping his head somewhat with a hard knit to his brow, he spoke clearer, firmer. "I have no other way to say such. I came here, that is all."
Though the screen was as much for her own protection, it also guarded him, kept her from seeing the glimmers of memory flicker or burn out. It kept her from seeing many things of him. She did listen to him speak and as he got better with his words she felt a similar flickering of memory, but she had now way of knowing why. Her own voice was smooth and well pronounced as she continued the cross-examination. "So you cannot remember how, exactly, but if you know the name, then you should also have some idea as to why you came here." She shifted enough that he'd hear the sound of her robes moving with the adjustment, but she remained seated where she was. "I know that you've been asked this time and time... why you attacked our house, but perhaps if I assure you this will be the last time it is asked of you, maybe you will remember?" It was not only an idle reminder, but a threat, letting him know they were just as tired of asking it as he was hearing it, but an answer was needed to save his life.
An answer, at least, he could now give with some more clarity at the very least. Twisting a grimace at the unsaid intent that lie behind that question, fingers tightened into hard fists atop his thighs. Perhaps if he'd taken her offer of a seat, things would be different...But, rocking back off his toes, he stood carefully, legs still weak from the lack of the necessities, to step to the edge of the screen, wrapping his hand 'round the edge for support as he stepped out from behind, casting a tight frown as his eyes swung carefully onto the woman. "I...did not attack. Or you would have suffered...worse losses. Yourself, among them. I...had to get inside this...place. Nothing more, woman."
Her face had darkened some over the years -- the trip into the Tahari, her immodest refusal to veil herself, sitting in garden at midday -- but she paled at the sight of him. His move forward had brought Arculeius into the light, but Amanita just stared at the ghost before her. How had she not seen him before? He was changed more than she, but there were unmistakable characteristics that an observant woman, such as she, should of spotted. His hair dark like her own, longer now, and those eyes of his... they seemed almost empty now. She was silent, staring at him, in a rare instance where she showed her own fear. The Charmer, who had will enough to face an ost without flinching, to curl up beside a man and inject him, to still be free after all she had seen and done -- showed fear in the face of this man, no longer a stranger. Arculeius appeared to be ready if the man decided to move any further, his words take as a possible threat, one the dark skinned man who'd seen him fight knew him likely capable of. Once the merchant composed herself enough to speak she simply said, "I see." Rising slowly she started to move closer to the man despite her guards worry made clear in a faint groan of exhaled breath. Still, she moved to look closer. It was the same way she approached an ost, with the shock and expression now removed from her face. "And now that you're inside... who will suffer losses.... you or me?"
